


bloom beautifully, dangerously

by slackeuse



Category: Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: A little sexy, M/M, almost a fake escort au, also i guess it's a little angsty too #srynotsry, childhood best friends, daehwi setting woojin up as per normal, definitely a fake dating au, family christmas party, flirty as fuck jihoon, whipped!woojin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 16:04:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13193604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slackeuse/pseuds/slackeuse
Summary: Every time this year, Woojin’s mom tries to talk him into dating someone new. He decides to bring someone home instead—courtesy Daehwi who happens to know an escort that could play a believable boyfriend. Except it’s Jihoon, his childhood friend, who is definitely not an escort.





	bloom beautifully, dangerously

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sinta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinta/gifts).



> so i played with your prompt a little, but i hope you still enjoy it!!

you are the faint line  
between faith and  
blindly waiting  
_letter to my future lover_ – rupi kaur

 

 

 

Woojin is trying to find a good movie to watch with Daehwi, Youngmin, and Donghyun when his mom calls. As much as he loves her, this is the time of the year where she starts pestering him about getting a girlfriend and asking if he’d like her to set him up with one of the nice neighborhood girls. Who he went to elementary school with and who he’s definitely not interested in. He doesn’t even lift a finger to attempt to answer her call.

“Your mom?” Daehwi asks.

“It’s not nice to ignore her calls,” Youngmin says between mouthfuls of ramyun.

“Well,” Woojin grumbles, “you would ignore your mom’s calls, too, if she was trying for the fourth year in a row to find you a girlfriend for your family holiday party. She knows the answer is no, but she still calls. I’m helping her save her breath.”

Donhyun gives him a look. “Just sounds like you’re being ungrateful for the fourth year in a row. Why don’t you just humor her? If she just wants to find you someone for the party…”

“So she can set me up next year, too,” Woojin says, “and the year after that, and the year after that? I think not.”

Daehwi puts a hand on Woojin’s arm. “ _Wonder Woman_ ’s finally available to rent. Let’s watch that. And I have a solution for you.”

“A solution?” Woojin glances at Youngmin and Donghyun for their movie input, but they both just shrug so he gets the movie. After waiting to make sure it’ll start playing, he puts the remote down. “Am I going to like it?”

“No, but it’s not like you have many options at this point. Listen, either you keep ignoring your mom—”

“Which has worked in the past with great success.”

“Mild success because she tries again the next year,” Daehwi corrects him. “If you keep ignoring her and show up without anyone, she’ll try to set you up even without your consent. If you don’t ignore her and tell her no, she’ll still set you up. If you don’t ignore her and tell her yes, just to humor her, she’ll set you up. Basically, everything you’ve tried so far just ends up in the same result.”

“Unfortunately.”

Youngmin pats Woojin’s knee. “She just wants you to be happy.”

“So you have to try something new,” Daehwi continues. “I think you need to tell her you have someone—”

“And show up with no one?” Woojin sits up. “That’s a fucking great idea. It’ll only work once, but once is better than doing the same thing as last year.”

Daehwi shakes his head. “No. Nope. Not what you should do. You need to show up with someone. If you don’t show up with someone this year, she’ll never believe you and she’ll keep setting you up even if you actually do someone. You have to establish some trust, first. Do you know nothing?”

Woojin sits back on the couch with a sigh. “Clearly I don’t. Who the fuck am I going to bring?”

“There’s really only two options.” Daehwi raises his fingers to emphasis his point. “You need someone who knows you pretty well or it won’t be believable. And someone who’s comfortable enough with you to pretend to be intimate or your mom’ll catch on. She’s a smart woman.”

“So you,” Woojin says.

“Yes, that’s one option. But pretending to be your boyfriend is the absolute last thing I’d ever do.” He lowers a finger. “Jihoon hyung is the other.”

“He’s too busy. And we haven’t seen each other since summer ended, so there goes your plan. And the movie’s about to start.” He points.

Without missing a beat, Daehwi grabs the remote and pauses the movie. He raises one more finger. “There’s a third option. You could pay an escort.”

“What.” Woojin isn’t sure he’s processing what Daehwi said quite right. “Did you just suggest I could bring an escort home to meet my parents?”

“Yes. Listen, listen. They have experience pretending to be close with people they don’t know. You’ll be paying them so they’ll stick around even if you’re—well—you. You could make up a story that your mom would buy but would also allow you to pretend to break up pretty quickly. And I happen to know someone who’s your type and would probably be up for it.”

He’s not interested in this plan but he has to ask. “A guy or a girl?”

“A guy. But like I said, he’s totally your type. At least meet him and decide. I can set something up for this weekend, then that gives you a few to make a decision before we all leave your apartment.” Daehwi starts the movie again. “Sounds like a plan, yeah?”

Although he rolls his eyes, Woojin doesn’t see a reason why he can’t meet the dude first. He really doesn’t have any other option unless he wants to face his mother trying to play matchmaker once again. And he does not.

“Fine,” he says.

“Great, leave lunch open on Saturday." He presses play. "Okay! The movie’s starting. Shut up, everyone.”

Woojin rolls his eyes. “No one was talking except for you—”

Daehwi slaps a hand over his mouth. “Saturday, lunch. Put it in your phone.” Then he settles into his spot, arranges his blanket just right, and digs into the popcorn with his eyes glued to the TV.

Because he knows he has no other choice, Woojin blocks out time on his calendar from noon until late afternoon and calls the event _lunch with Daehwi’s escort friend_.

 

 

Woojin doesn’t mean to get there early, but he does and he hates himself for it. Ideally, he would’ve been late. He’d walk up to the counter while subtly checking out everyone there. Daehwi said his intended escort would be in pink. Once he figured out just what he was getting himself into, he’d make a decision while he waited for his drink to be made. Either sit down and go through with this shitshow or fucking _run_.

Instead he was nervously pacing his apartment and Daehwi, who'd come over to continue talking him into going through with it, kicked him out so now he’s nervously pacing in front of the barista making his drink. A hot chocolate. Because his hands are already close to shaking. The last thing he needs right now is caffeine.

“Woojin.”

He looks up, but the barista is not done with his drink. Then he recognizes that the voice came from his right side, over at the register, and it sounded a lot like someone he knew.

It’s Jihoon. “Wow, did the floor do something to you? Your aggressive pacing is going to ruin the wood.” He hands over some cash, then gets some change in return. His hair is bleached blond now, and of course he can pull it off in a way that makes Woojin’s mouth dry a little. “Let’s grab a table?”

“I’m—” There’s no way he can tell Jihoon the real reason he’s here. And maybe Jihoon is exactly what he needs to wait out the remaining fifteen minutes before Daehwi’s escort is supposed to arrive. He can pretend to be hanging out with Jihoon while checking out whoever comes through the door dressed in pink. “Yeah, sure. A table’s good. I haven’t seen you in forever. We should catch up.”

Jihoon smiles, and there’s something about its softness, his cheeks flushed from the cold outside, his warm blond hair, his blush pink sweater that makes him simply radiant. He’s beautiful—and dangerous. Woojin lost count of how many times he’s wanted to kiss Park Jihoon over their long ass friendship. And he knows he’s not the only one—everyone he’s known has wanted to kiss Jihoon at some point.

And Jihoon knows it.

“Catch up about what?” Jihoon says, heading to the closest free table. He sits without any grace, and Woojin takes the seat across from him. He’s wearing the canvas Vans that he decorated with Woojin back in high school. “The school year’s finally over. We’ll be seniors next year, which, fuck that, I’m not ready. You already told me you did well on your exams, but both of us were too exhausted to go celebrate. And now here we are.”

Woojin chuckles because, as always, although they haven’t seen each other since the summer, even a few sporadic text messages is all they need to keep in touch. They always go right back to being them as soon as they see each other, as if not a day went by where they hadn’t seen or talked to each other. “Are you going back home for the holidays?”

“I’ll have to stop by for a few dinners, but I want a break. A real one. Where I can just walk around in my underwear, eat nothing but junk food, and play games all day long if I want. Daniel hyung is only going away for a few days, too, so we've got most of the break to waste together. We’ve already got a schedule.”

“You’re ridiculous. It’s hard to believe you’ll be twenty-two next year.”

“And you think you’re any better?”

Before he can answer, Woojin hears his name again. This time it’s paired with his drink order. Jihoon’s is called right after, and Jihoon, being the dick he is, just looks at Woojin expectantly as he gets up. So Woojin brings over both their drinks.

“Of course, I’m better,” Woojin says, taking a pointed drink of his hot chocolate.

“You ordered hot chocolate,” Jihoon says.

“I did not.”

“It’s written on your cup.” Jihoon points to the HC written in permanent marker on the side of his cup. “And don’t you need help convincing your mom you’re not still an undateable idiot?”

“ _What?_ ”

Then Jihoon’s sweater seems to intensify a hundred shades. It’s pink. It’s fucking pink. Jihoon is the escort Daehwi is setting him up with.

“You’re—” Woojin leans in, lowers his voice. “—an escort?”

“What? Fuck no.” Jihoon slaps him on the forehead, so Woojin promptly retreats, folds his arms over his chest. Jihoon continues with a scowl, “You’re such a fucking imbecile. Is that what Daehwi told you? He didn’t tell you he was going to ask me, did he. I’m going to—”

“Hey, hey.” Woojin puts a hand over Jihoon’s as he begins typing in the passcode on his phone. “Don’t kill him yet. It’s fine. I wouldn’t have accepted if he told me it was you.”

Jihoon’s scowl deepens. “Why? I know how your mom gets.”

“Because you’re Park Jihoon. You’re way out of my league and my mom knows that. I’d assume you’d be busy, and I was right. I know how much you enjoy your breaks, especially when you can spend them being a more pathetic version of your fifteen-year-old self. I wouldn’t want to take that away from you. And honestly I’d figure you’d say no? Daehwi told you I needed a fake boyfriend for the holidays and you just fucking showed up?”

Jihoon plays with the straw of his ice coffee. “You need help, and so I said yes.” He shrugs. “Your mom loves me, and even if I’m out of your league—I agree—I think she’ll just be happy it’s me. I can take a few days out of my gaming schedule to spend time with one of my best friends. And who the fuck else is going to be even half as convincing as me? Honestly, I don’t know why you didn’t just ask me yourself.”

For the same exact fucking reasons he wouldn’t have accepted Daehwi’s proposal if he’d told him it’d be Jihoon. Because he’s Jihoon.

“Sorry,” Woojin says. “My plan was to tell her I’m seeing someone and then not bring anyone at all. You don’t have to change your holiday plans for me. Really. I can put up with her nagging for another year. Really. It’s endearing.”

“You’re saying 'really' a whole fucking lot. Wouldn't it be easier if you did bring someone, though?” Jihoon sets his elbow on the table, puts his chin in his palm.

“Well, yeah, I guess.”

“Then just ask me.”

Woojin sighs, and it comes through his throat a bit like a growl because he knows this is a bad idea. It’ll be a bad idea to spend so much time with Jihoon. It’ll be a bad idea to pretend to be dating him, even if it’s just a few days. It’ll be bad idea to set himself up for when they go back to whatever it is they are now. He rakes his fingers through his hair.

It’s been a long time, though. He had a crush on Jihoon in high school. His heart didn’t skip a beat when he saw him earlier like it did back then. And his consciousness isn’t being consumed by thoughts of how good he looks right now. Maybe he has enough distance now that he can pull this off.

And, fucking hell, it’d be so nice to get his mom off his back this year. He’d probably even be able to pull off his original lie next year and be free of her meddling ways for two whole years.

He takes a big breath, squares his shoulders, looks Jihoon straight in the eyes. Which is a mistake because they’re catching every low-hanging light in Starbucks and they look like mirrors reflecting back the night sky. “Will you?” he asks.

“Will I what.”

“You know. Don’t be a douche.”

“Will I _what_.”

“Will you go out to Busan with me and pretend that we’re dating for a few days so my mom doesn’t try to hook me up with Saemin again, you asshole?”

Jihoon laughs. “You even used your favorite nickname for me. How could I say no to that? Now call your mom and tell her. I want to see you lie to her.”

Although the last thing he wants to do is amuse Jihoon, he does call his mom. When he tells her that he’ll be bringing his boyfriend home for Christmas, he does not expect the excited squeal, the _thank you God, thank you for listening to my prayers_ , or how she manages to tell at least four other people the _fantastic_ news. There are only two people in the house she could’ve told, so, somehow, she managed to leave the house to tell two _additional_ people, and Woojin’s blood runs cold at that.

Everyone in Busan will know Woojin is dating someone by the time he arrives home.

When she asks who it is, he manages to tell her it’s a surprise without stuttering or sounding too dead inside. Unfortunately, she eats it up as if he was keeping it a secret just to excite her more later.

The only thing that makes the call worthwhile is the grin Jihoon gives him at the end.

 

 

Somehow, Jihoon has managed to dye his hair dark by the time Woojin picks up him at the crack of dawn. He doesn't bother asking why because he knows. He remembers when Woojin's mom flipped out when he dyed his hair red temporarily. She would've had a small heart attack had Jihoon shown up blond, and somehow the fact that Jihoon had remembered that and changed his damn hair color for this is something Woojin does not want to dwell on.

Woojin drives because Jihoon still hasn't bothered getting his driver's license, but they've driven this stretch to Busan enough times that they don't even need to plan where they're going to stop.

They have lunch in Yeoju at a small family restaurant they discovered when they drove up to Seoul their senior year to look at a bunch of university campuses and spent the night on Daniel and Jisung's couch when they were still living together. There's a cafè in Mungyeong that they found when Woojin forgot to go to the bathroom at the restaurant on their way back to Busan the following winter after their freshman year.

In Daegu, they always try a new fried chicken restaurant with a bar. This time, they only get into one bar fight. It's not like they knew they were sitting at the table some other dude always sat at every night. It's also not like Woojin had to throw the first punch. It's also not like Jihoon had to throw the second punch.

They won the fight, at least.

Of course, this is why they have to find a new restaurant every fucking time.

When Woojin pulls into the garage and parks his car in the spare spot his family keeps for when he visits, he looks over at Jihoon. “Are you ready?” he asks because he's pretty sure if Jihoon asked him first, he wouldn't be able to answer.

“Sure,” he says. “Don't we need a story, though?”

Woojin grimaces. “Just make something up.”

Jihoon smirks. “Okay. Let's go, then. Unless _you're_ not ready?” He doesn't wait for an answer, though, and gets out of the car. He opens the backseat door and pulls out his bag.

All Woojin can do is tighten his grip on the steering wheel for a moment, then get out and grab his own bag. He locks the car and heads to the resident elevator. “Is this easy for you?”

“What? Pretending to be your incredibly attractive, definitely out-of-your league boyfriend? Of course, it is. We're best friends. I know exactly what kind of boyfriend you want, and I know I can be that. Or at least act like I can be that. I wasn't casted in a movie with Park Bogum because I'm a bad actor.”

“Right.” Woojin waves his resident key fob in front of the security strip on the side of the elevator, then presses the button for up. The doors open immediately, so they step in, and Woojin presses the floor for his family's place. He tries to fight the way his mouth wants to dip into a frown as he sinks into the corner of the elevator. “I'm glad it'll be easy for one of us. Means it'll be at least half believable.”

“It'll be easy to be your fake boyfriend,” Jihoon says, “but it's not going to be easy once you tell her we've broken up. Your mom loves me. She's going to be so happy. Then you're going to tell her we're not dating anymore and she's going to be heartbroken. I don't want to do that to your mom—probably almost as much as you don't want to. She's not going to like me so much anymore. It'll be awkward if I come over again.”

Oh, shit. He's right. He hadn't thought of what it'd mean for Jihoon once they ended their fake relationship. He rubs his jaw, feels the faintest prickle of new growth. “I'll figure out the best way to break the news to her,” he promises. “I'll tell her it's my fault. I'll have tissues ready and I'll have her favorite ice cream waiting for her in the freezer. She'll probably call you and make sure you're okay. She loves you more than she loves me.”

“If you tell her it's your fault, she's just going to start bugging you about how you can fix things between us. You'll be trading her trying to set you up with her trying to get us back together when we were never really together to begin with.” Jihoon looks over at him, and he looks like he's searching for something in Woojin's face. “There are other lies you can tell.”

“Like what? I already thought that I could tell her we weren't actually together yet, that I was hoping to change that on this trip. Or maybe you decided to come with me because I just broke up with someone and didn't want me to spend Christmas alone with my family like a loser. But then I'm just making myself out to be hopelessly in love with you.” Not like that wasn't partially true at some point, though. “Or hopelessly dumped right before Christmas. And how is either better than just going through with the whole fake dating thing?”

Jihoon sighs and crosses his arms over his chest. As he thinks, his gaze remains on the ceiling. “Yeah, alright. It'll be fun, anyway.”

“Fun?”

“That's what I said.” He lowers his eyes to Woojin's, and then suddenly it's lowering down the length of Woojin's body then back up to meet Woojin's eyes again in a way that sends a shock down his spine. This is why Jihoon is dangerous. “It never did take that much to make you blush.”

Woojin's lip curls. He crosses the small distance between them and pins Jihoon into the other corner of the elevator, puts a hand on the wall beside Jihoon's head, and bends over just enough so that they're the same height. “Am I blushing, Jihoon? Thought I'd give you a closer look.”

Jihoon doesn't look away, doesn't flinch, doesn't stop smirking. “Are you sure you're close enough?”

This fucking tease. “Do you want me to be closer?”

He licks his lips, and the faintest of blushes begins spreading along his cheeks. He must know it, too, because he chooses to say nothing, even though all Woojin can do is watch his lips glisten in the fluorescent lights as pressure pools into his lower abdomen.

The elevator stops, announces its arrival on floor fifteen.

“Are you ready?” Jihoon asks, patting the arm Woojin kept at his side. Then he slides his hand down his forearm and takes his hand.

No. He's definitely not ready. Unfortunately, he has no other choice. He squeezes Jihoon's hand and then walks with him to the front door of his family's penthouse. He's in the middle of knocking a second time when his mom answers the door.

“Mom,” Woojin says, “this is my boyfriend.” It comes out a lot easier than he thought it would. “You remember Jihoon, right?”

She inhales. Sharply. She drops the kitchen towel she was using to dry her hands. “Of course, I remember Jihoon.” She takes Jihoon's free hand and touches his jaw with her other. “Are you—” She looks between Jihoon and Woojin a few times, then settles on Woojin. “—Is Jihoon your boyfriend?”

While Woojin is busy swallowing and figuring out just how he should say yes, Jihoon is dropping his hand and wrapping her in his arms.

“Yes,” he says with a chuckle, “I'm his boyfriend. It's me.”

“It's you!” She hugs Jihoon close, spins him around. “It's really you? My beautiful Jihoon? You're dating my dumb son? How'd he get so lucky?”

“Even he can be charming sometimes,” Jihoon says. Just when he's been spun around enough that he's facing Woojin, he sends him a smirk. “Let's just say he was persistent and it's hard to resist that snaggletoothed smile.”

At that, Woojin closes the door behind him and accepts that this was the worst decision he's ever made in his life.

 

 

Woojin’s mom is done with dinner a couple hours later, and by that time, they’re both just tipsy enough and bored enough with entertaining Woojin’s little sister Yerim that they’re thankful. It’s a light Christmas Eve dinner of traditional Korean food, mostly Woojin’s favorites but he doesn’t miss that a few side dishes were definitely just for Jihoon.

It’s almost ridiculous how well Jihoon fits into his family dynamic, but it makes sense. He’s had dinner here before countless times. He’s basically part of the family already, with the way his mom dotes on him, the way his dad boasts about him, and the way his sister admires him.

It’s all too dangerous.

After dinner, they watch a movie together. Jihoon has no problems settling under Woojin’s arm, and since it’s not a far cry from the dozens of other times Jihoon used Woojin as a pillow when he stayed the night with Woojin’s family, no one even gives them a second glance. What’s maybe more worrisome is that when they turn in for bed, no one stops them from sleeping in the same room—the same bed.

He waits for someone to say something when they get changed into pajamas. He waits for someone to notice when they’re washing their faces, brushing their teeth. He waits for someone to stop them when they’ve climbed in bed together and Jihoon is pressed into his side and his head is resting on his shoulder.

“Goodnight boys,” his mom says, smiling at the doorway. She closes the door.

“Okay, this isn’t right,” Woojin whispers. “There’s no way she believes we’re dating if she’s letting us sleep in here together. If she really thought we were dating, there’s no way this would be okay.”

“She’s not bothering you about finding you a date for the party tomorrow, though,” Jihoon points out. He sits up, pushes Woojin’s arm so it’s at his side, then lays back down so they’re shoulder-to-shoulder.

“Yet.” Woojin chews on his lips. “If it doesn’t register for her before then, she’ll definitely try to find me a girlfriend there. She'll parade me around to every single girl in Busan that shows up. Maybe even ask my cousins if they know someone. Then I’ll have to remind her we’re dating in front of everyone, and I feel like that’ll be a whole disaster.”

Jihoon turns his head to look at him. “Maybe it’ll click tomorrow morning when we walk out of the room together.”

“Or maybe it won’t?”

“We could walk out shirtless.”

Woojin frowns. “She’d probably just think we got too hot? Why would we take our shirts off?”

Now Jihoon frowns, scoffs. “What do boyfriends do together at night when they’re in a committed relationship and sleeping in the same bed? They have sex. If pretending we did it won’t work, then let’s just make some noise.”

“ _What?_ You want us—”

“We can make your bed squeak. I can moan a few times. You can say my name a little too loud after a few minutes. Easy.”

“—to pretend to _have sex_ in my childhood bed with my _parents_ sleeping down the hall? Even if we were together, I wouldn’t do that here. Holy fuck, Jihoon.”

Jihoon blinks. “You did kiss me in this bed with your parents down the hall when we were, what, nineteen? What’s so different now?”

“Everything?” Woojin says without thinking. Because if Jihoon asks what that means, there’s no way he can answer. It’s true though. Woojin had been stupid when he was nineteen, and he’s not now. Well, at least not _as_ stupid. Back then, he hadn’t realized how dangerous Jihoon is. He hadn’t realized just how easy it was for him to fall in love. He hadn’t realized he was _already_ in love with his best friend. He hadn’t realized how easy it was for Jihoon to be like this and not care what it might mean to Woojin.

“I don’t believe that,” Jihoon says. “Not for a single second. Nothing’s changed between us, Woojin. That’s why we’re still like this.”

“What does that even mean? We’re older. We hardly see each other because we’re both so busy. How is that not change? We’re not nineteen anymore.”

“Right. Everything about our lives have changed, but that’s it. When we’re together, aren’t we just like we always are? That’s what makes us, you know, _us_. Or do you think something between us is different now?”

Woojin just studies Jihoon’s face—always so fucking unreadable when he needs it to be everything but. If nothing has changed between them, wouldn’t that mean Woojin still has feelings for Jihoon? That can’t be true. He did everything he possibly could to get rid of them. He’s dated other people. He’s watched Jihoon date other people—and been happy for him, too. He’s created some distance between them by texting less, by being less available, by not making Jihoon the first person he asks to hang out.

He worked hard to build a world around himself where Jihoon wasn’t his everything, so how could nothing have changed?

Jihoon’s lips part. “Well?” he asks.

The answer should be _yes_ , he thinks something’s different between them now, but it gets stuck in his throat the longer he looks at Jihoon. His dark hair’s already a mess and they haven’t even been in bed for more than ten minutes, but his bangs fall delicately across his forehead. If Jihoon looked beautiful blond, he looks fucking stunning as a brunet. The room’s too dim to see the way Jihoon’s brown eyes glitter in the light, but Woojin has always loved their shape, loved the way he sometimes blinks too hard, loved their unwavering stare.

And Jihoon’s mouth. His full lips, sometimes chapped because he has a habit of licking them and sometimes too red because he has a habit of chewing on them. He’d kissed Jihoon back then because he’d wanted to.

“Woojin,” Jihoon says.

Maybe he’s still an idiot because he still wants to kiss Jihoon. There’s only one way, though, to tell for sure if anything has changed between them. So he leans in, slowly so that if Jihoon wants to turn away, he’d have plenty of time. He watches Jihoon’s lips part, hears his sharp inhale, sees the way his gaze looks between Woojin’s eyes and his mouth until his eyelids flutter shut.

He pauses right before their lips touch. Just in case. Then he feels Jihoon’s breath warm against his lips and he closes the distance between them and it’s a mistake. A huge fucking mistake. Their mouths open at the same time and they both suck in a breath like they’re being burned from the inside out. A fire erupts under Woojin’s skin when their tongues meet, dance against each other.

The fire sinks into his chest, first, when he shifts his weight so he’s leaning over Jihoon now, balancing on an elbow at Jihoon’s side, a hand placed near his head, and a knee between his legs. Their nearness is a familiar pressure in his chest—something that fills him but also feels unbearably overwhelming. Then Jihoon is rolling his tongue against Woojin’s tongue and then sucking the tip and Woojin is laying his hips against Jihoon’s as that pressure moves down low into his gut.

Jihoon’s hands find Woojin’s hip bones, then they slide around to his lower back, then lower still. Woojin captures his tongue between his teeth, but he doesn’t bite down hard. Just enough. Just to tease. Just to get a little whine out of Jihoon’s throat before tracing every soft centimeter of Jihoon’s lips. Jihoon fists the back of his pajama shirt as he moans, open mouthed. It makes Woojin want to coax out every little sound from Jihoon’s lips—every mewl, every whimper, every whine, every moan, every groan, every gasp, every plea.

It’s different than when they’d kissed last time. Last time it’d been only for a few moments. It’d been a question lingering between them that they’d answered with a meeting of their lips and tongues. It’d been innocent.

Now that he has Jihoon beneath him, he wants him to be writhing. He has Jihoon almost breathless, but he wants him panting, flushing, and begging for more.

Then Jihoon chuckles as their tongues part. He rocks his hips into Woojin’s and it’s a fucking shock wave through his body. He nearly doubles over, definitely groans against Jihoon’s mouth. Jihoon nibbles on his bottom lip and begins pulling Woojin’s shirt up his back, trailing his nails along his skin.

Woojin sits up on his knees to take off his shirt, but then he gets a good look at Jihoon. His lips are swollen, glistening. His face is flushed. His hair’s a mess. Somehow, his shirt has ridden half-way up his torso, revealing his thin waist and the gentle ridges of muscle along his abdomen.  His pajama pants are riding low on his hips and it would only take one tug for this to go further than their last kiss.

“We shouldn’t,” Woojin whispers. He rubs his face with both hands.

“Okay,” Jihoon says. His voice shakes a little.

“It’s not you.”

“I know,” Jihoon says, watching him with that unwavering gaze that makes Woojin fucking weak.

Woojin wants to lean over and keep kissing him. Instead, he reaches down and pulls up Jihoon’s pajama pants and tugs down his shirt. He climbs off of him and gets out of the bed. He grabs a blanket from his closet. Then he leaves the room, goes downstairs, and settles in on the couch.

 

 

His mom’s startled yelp wakes him up in the morning. He bites his tongue against asking her what the fuck is wrong because it’s his _mom_ and she probably didn’t mean to wake him up. It’s not like she goes downstairs and sees a body on her couch every morning. Of course, she’d be a little surprised.

“What’re you doing down here?” she asks.

“I…” How the fuck does he explain that he was about to go a little too far with his fake boyfriend and so he exiled himself to the couch? He swallows. “We can’t… We’re—”

She blinks, and she tilts her head as if expecting a whole damn sentence out of him.

“…We’re not married or anything so…”

His mom’s eyes wide, then her hand darts to the spot just above her heart. She staggers just a little. “Oh my god.” She’s blushing now. “You’re actually dating, aren’t you?”

Woojin can feel the heat edging his cheeks, too. “Mom.”

“I mean—I thought you were when you were younger. You two were so close! And the way you looked at each other, the way you two were nearly inseparable. We all thought you two were together… Then you started going out with that girl—what was her name?”

“Sooyoung?”

“Yes, that one. Really, that was out of nowhere. We thought we wouldn’t see Jihoon around as much, but there he was, all the time still. And you were still so close. We just thought maybe that’s how you two were.” She shrugs. “So when you said you were _dating_ and you two just acted like how you always did, I guess it just didn’t click.”

“Yeah,” Woojin says, “I figured. You let us sleep in the same room…”

“You should’ve told me!”

“ _We did_.”

She sighs. “Okay, that’s fair. But you shouldn’t have just gone and slept in the same room.” When Woojin gives her a look, she shrugs. “Okay, so you came and slept down here. Thank God. Poor Jihoon. You probably attacked him or something and he sent you down here…”

“I did no such…” He closes his mouth really quick because what he was going to say is a fucking lie. He tries again. “He did not kick me out. I willingly came down here.”

“So you did attack him. Wow. My own son!”

Woojin covers face because he knows by now he’s bright fucking red. “Mom.”

She chuckles. “I need to hear this story! Come help me make breakfast.”

There’s no way to tell her no and it might seem suspicious if he wakes Jihoon to help him with the story, so he gets up and follows her to the kitchen. She puts him in charge of cutting shit up for her and listens while he fabricates some stupid story about realizing his feelings for Jihoon.

He tells her it was over the summer. That the last few years, they’d grown apart because they’d both been so busy. Woojin with college and the dance studio and getting commissioned to choreograph a few things for some big entertainment companies. Jihoon with college, too, and all the auditions his agency sends him to and the movie he just finished filming and the new one he just got casted for. But then they had this short window, just a few weeks, where they could see each other.

So they spent all their time together. Woojin hadn’t even bothered going home. He’d just stayed at Jihoon’s place since it was near enough to the dance studio. They’d slipped right back into how they’d been before college, and that was when Woojin had realized that he had wanted to be more than friends.

“So I confessed,” Woojin says, making his last series of cuts and setting the knife into the sink. He knows as he says these words that this is what he wished had happened, what he wishes maybe might happen still. “And thankfully Jihoon felt the same way. So we’ve been dating since, but taking it a little slow because we’re both still so busy.”

“Do you think you always had feelings for him?” his mom asks.

Woojin’s heart trips over itself. He swallows hard. “Yeah.” It comes out a little quiet.

His mom pats his back. “I’m happy for you, Woojin. I’m happy for both of you. I’m good here now. Why don’t you take a shower, wake him up, let him shower up, too, and by then I’ll have breakfast ready?”

He agrees, and she kisses his cheek before he heads upstairs. His shower is quick, and he’s drying his hair off when he steps into his bedroom to find Jihoon still sleeping. He sits on the bed, debates whether to let him sleep while he changes just so he can have those extra few minutes or if he should just wake him now.

Jihoon takes a big breath, though, and then his eyes squint open. “Woojin? Is it morning already?” He stretches, and several of his bones crack.

“Yeah.” He can’t help but smile at the way Jihoon tries to rub sleep out of his eyes. “Mom found me on the couch and she finally got it. I had to make up some story about spending time together over summer and falling in love, in case she asks. Are you ready to get up?”

“Fuck,” Jihoon says. “Sorry. I should’ve been there to help you. So the story’s that we spent a lot of time together, fell in love, and I confessed? You confessed?”

“I did. And don’t worry about not being there. It’s fine. I think she probably bought it more because it was just her and me. She’s making breakfast though. You want to take a shower?”

Jihoon sighs, throws a little tantrum under the covers like he always does when he has to get out of bed but he doesn’t want to, then throws off the covers. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Woojin gets off the bed so he can climb out. His cheeks are a little pink—why? Because Woojin’s naked underneath the towel? That’s fucking precious—and Woojin has the impulse to touch his cheeks with his fingertips, to feel how warm they are.

Before Jihoon opens the bedroom door, he clears his throat. “Your towel’s on the floor.” Then he opens the door, steps into the hall, and closes the door so fast that Woojin doesn’t have a chance to react.

So it wasn’t just that he was half-naked. It was because he was entirely naked. Holy fuck of all fucks. He reminds himself to apologize later, then gets dressed. As he waits for Jihoon to get out, he takes inventory of his childhood memories. The posters, the CDs, the mixtapes he’d made, the figures, the toys. Jihoon changes while Woojin has his back turned, then they join the family downstairs for Christmas breakfast. Yerim takes upon herself to dry Jihoon’s wet hair. She shoots Woojin a knowing smirk, and he’s never wanted to trap her in a headlock more.

After breakfast, they open gifts near the Christmas tree. Woojin and Jihoon sit next to each other by the fireplace—maybe a bit too close than friends would sit—and Jihoon has his hand resting on Woojin’s thigh—maybe a little higher than a friend would be comfortable placing their hand. Woojin is glad this shit is so easy for Jihoon, but he can’t help but wish it wasn’t. Why can't this be as hard for Jihoon as it is for Woojin?

Even his mom still shyly smiles at his dad, blushes when he’s looking at her in that way that shows just how much he loves her. And his dad, his touch always lingers a moment too long, like the last thing he wants to do is pull away from her. Does he look like that when he touches Jihoon?

As per tradition, Yerim opens her gifts first. Because his parents love spoiling her, she gets a bunch of expensive shit other kids would have to break their backs to earn. A new iPhone, a new laptop, a ridiculous amount of new clothes and shoes. Thankfully, she’s not an unappreciative privileged asshole, so she thanks their parents for each gift.

Next is Woojin’s turn, and he gets new shoes, new watches, and a lot of Nike, as usual, even though he would’ve been happy with anything his parents got him. “Thanks,” he says. “I’ve worn a hole into a few of my shoes, so this is really helpful.”

“We’re glad you like it, honey,” his mom says.

“I—uh…” Jihoon bites the inside of his cheek for a second. He glances over at Woojin. “I brought a gift for Woojin, too. Is it okay if I give it to him now?”

Woojin’s dumb heart stops for a second. “You got me a gift?”

“Well, yeah.”

“I didn’t…” Fuck, that would sound bad. He backtracks. “I—”

“I know we promised not to get each other anything,” Jihoon takes over. He turns so he’s facing Woojin. How can he be so fucking smooth? The hand on his thigh moves up to his hip, where he grasps some of Woojin’s shirt. He pulls out a little box with his other hand. _A little box_. “I got you something anyway so you’d look bad in front of your parents.”

His parents both chuckle. Woojin is sure Jihoon just added another reason why his parents would rather have him as a son. “Open it, Woojin,” his dad says.

Woojin leans forward off his hands and takes the box. There’s no way Jihoon would propose to him, right? That’d be taking the whole fake dating thing a little too far, right? Even if he’s pretending to be an escort as if he’s acting out a role in some drama, a ring would be out of the question. But when he pops open the box, there’s a slim silver band shining up at him.

“It’s a promise ring,” Jihoon says, probably to give Woojin time to process. “I know we don’t really get to see each other as much as we want, but I want you to know that I’m really committed. I feel like we missed our chance when we were younger and we were blessed to have a second chance to connect this summer, and I don’t want to waste that.”

Woojin’s hands are shaking. All he can do is look at Jihoon, at his radiant beauty and his silver tongue. His heart his thudding in his chest, but he manages to nod. So Jihoon takes out the ring and slip it onto one of his fingers. His grip steadies his hand just enough that he hopes his parents don't see their tremor.

Then Jihoon entwines their fingers. “I love you,” he says and leans in, presses his lips to the corner of Woojin’s mouth.

“Ah—I… I love you, too,” Woojin says, but when he says it, he knows he means it. Pain stabs into his chest, knocks breath out of him. “I… didn’t get you anything. I—”

“Don’t worry about it.” Jihoon puts his other hand on Woojin’s. He smirks. “You did confess first. It’s my turn to be the romantic one, yeah?”

“Yeah…” Woojin smiles. Although he knows he shouldn’t, he returns Jihoon’s kiss. “This was a little much, though.”

Yerim isn’t trying to hide the disgust on her face. “Yeah, just a little! I don’t want to see you two kissing. Stop it. It’s weird enough that you’re dating. I thought _I’d_ be the one dating Jihoon oppa.”

Woojin rolls his eyes at her, but his parents are laughing again.

“We’re really glad you could join us this Christmas,” his mom says. “Welcome to the family officially, Jihoon. We already considered you to be the second son we never had, but now it seems like you really are joining our family. We couldn’t be happier.”

“Thanks,” Jihoon says. He dips his head, but Woojin can see the flush beginning to bloom on his cheeks. A blush that Woojin hadn’t put there but his damn mother.

As his mom starts opening her presents, Woojin puts an arm around Jihoon’s shoulder. He relaxes into Woojin’s side like it’s the normal thing to do. Woojin wishes it was.

His mom gets jewelry from his dad—beautiful diamond earrings, a matching necklace and bracelet, and a lot of little things that only a man in love with her would decide to buy. Like a new apron, a new knife set, a few new books, a ridiculously expensive handbag. His dad gets a new watch, some fancy ties and cufflinks that are probably worth more money than an entire year of classes at the dance studio Woojin works at, and a lot of golf accessories Woojin didn’t know existed.

After exchanging gifts, everyone helps pick up. Woojin’s mom suggests that Woojin and Jihoon take a walk around the neighborhood, check out their old elementary school, middle school, and high school. So they put on jackets and Woojin’s mom bundles Jihoon up in a scarf.

“Be back in a few hours. The party starts at three.” She pushes them out of the door.

“You just don’t want us here while you get set up,” Woojin accuses her.

She scoffs. “Obviously. Now go. Have fun. Don’t let Jihoon get too cold.” She shuts the door in their faces.

Jihoon just chuckles. “I haven’t been in Busan forever, anyway. Come on.” He grabs Woojin’s wrist and pulls him toward the elevator.

It’s easy to fall into an easy rhythm when he’s alone with Jihoon. They talk about their different and sometimes overlapping friend group, updating each other on who’s doing what. They talk about what they’ll do after graduating. They talk about everything that isn’t the ring on Woojin’s finger, the kiss they shared last night, or just _them_ , whatever it is that they are—not until they finally get to their old elementary school.

Breaking inside isn’t has hard as it should be. Especially when Woojin is so good at climbing over things and Jihoon has a knack for picking locks. Two qualities that got them into a lot of trouble when they were younger and had a terrible grasp on what consequences meant. They walk down the deserted halls and find the classroom where they first met. The desks and chairs are a lot smaller than they remember.

Because they’re both Park, they had sat next to each other the first day of class. That was all they needed to become fast friends, partners-in-crime.

“We were pretty inseparable from day one, weren’t we?” Jihoon asks, running his fingertips along the desk he’d sat at when he was young.

Woojin sits on a desk, though it’s too low even for that, and watches Jihoon walk around. “Yeah. I’m pretty sure we made our teacher go bald early. Maybe we were a little much.”

“Do you think it was the pranks or the jokes?”

“Both.”

“And our tendency toward the dramatics.”

Woojin chuckles. That was one way to put it.

They maze through the school until they’ve visited every classroom they shared, then they decide to take a detour to the dance studio where they both started taking classes right before middle school.

The place is a little worse for wear now, situated between two closed businesses in a neighborhood that never quite became up-and-coming. Jihoon manages to pick the lock on the back door. Their footsteps echo in the large mirrored practice room.

“Remember when you thought you’d own this place someday?” Jihoon asks. He watches Woojin’s reflection in the mirror.

That had been when he’d first realized how much he loved dance. It was a lot before he’d moved to Seoul for college, before realizing that he could do better. That he actually _wanted_ better than that for himself.

“Maybe I still will, someday,” Woojin says. “A pet project. Hey, do you remember the first routine we learned?”

Jihoon flinches. “Was it like this?”

They chuckle as they recall old dance routines together. Mostly it’s Woojin remembering and Jihoon attempting to get the moves right. Then the ache in Jihoon’s knee returns, so they leave for their old middle school.

They were never in the same class in middle school, which was fine. They made other friends, which was probably good, but that didn’t stop them from walking to school together and walking home together. Sometimes they’d stop by an arcade although they weren’t supposed to go in their uniforms. Sometimes they’d accidentally get into fights because Woojin liked punching people a little too much and Jihoon was fantastic at provoking people into making the mistake of pissing Woojin off enough that he’d punch them.

Jihoon was always the one that managed to talk their way out of getting into trouble. At first, he was good at using his good looks. Then he’d bring in their good family backgrounds, the money their families donated to the community. After that, he just started straight up lying. And he was good at it, so he started telling more elaborate lies. Woojin remembers thinking Jihoon was trouble, thinking that no one knew how dangerous he was. But that was probably when Jihoon had been the most free.

He was scouted right before they entered high school. All the times Jihoon had mentioned he was interested in being an actor suddenly became real, and Woojin had realized that maybe he hadn’t spent enough time actually paying attention to Jihoon. So he really started listening, started watching.

In high school, Woojin watched Jihoon put on a mask at school—approachable but not too approachable, tough but not too tough, nice but not too nice, hardworking but not too hardworking. He seemed like royalty when he walked down the halls. Girls would glance into their classroom just to see his face. It was fucking crazy. He watched Jihoon and fell in love.

Their high school is a little bit more difficult to break into, but they figure it out one way or another. They move through the hallways quietly this time. Woojin watches Jihoon now, too, out of the corner of his eye. When they leave, Jihoon has a warm smile on his face.

“Hey,” Jihoon says as they head back to Woojin’s home, “do you think we could stop by the beach tomorrow on our way back? Shouldn’t be too crowded.”

“Sure.”

Then Jihoon’s hand finds his again, and they walk all the way back that way.

Everything is perfect in the house when they arrive. There are additional Christmas decorations—icicle lighting, silver tinsel, white candles, wreathes, evergreen garlands, mistletoe. There is a lavish spread of catered appetizers and hors d'oeuvres in the formal dining room. There are hired wait staff dressed in black dress pants and white button downs prepared to pass out glasses of wine and flutes of champagne.

Woojin’s mom shoves them into his bedroom with Christmas sweaters. “Wear these!” she demands before shutting them in.

They take off their layers and pull them on. They look at each other.

“Are you ready for the main act?” Jihoon asks.

Absolutely not. “We just have to convince my whole family and all of my parents’ friends that we’re dating. Not a big deal.” Woojin throws up a thumb. “And if all else fails, I’m blaming you for being a bad actor.”

Jihoon rolls his eyes. “A bad escort, you mean. You’re not even paying me.”

“Paying you would be weird.” He opens the door and gestures for Jihoon to go first.

“Maybe I should let you do all the talking tonight?”

“Or what if I just bought you dinner next week.”

“Oh, you want to take me on a date instead of just paying for my services? That’s sly. But sure. I’ll accept that. You know I can’t turn down food. A dinner date next week it is.”

Woojin’s lip curls. “Don’t call it a date.”

“Getting dinner with your boyfriend is called a date.” Jihoon entwines their fingers again as he steps into the hall. Woojin closes the door behind him and lets Jihoon lead him down stairs, where there’s already Christmas music and the faint buzz of chatter.

At first, it’s easy for them to hold hands and avoid having to answer questions about whether they’re together. Then old friends start turning up and they only have to glance at each other to know it’s not going to work like that anymore. Around some people they have to pretend to be the same old friends as before. Just Woojin and Jihoon, eating too much and drinking too much and looking like they might start some chaos at any moment. For others, Jihoon is good at those subtle touches—brushes their knuckles together, letting his hand linger a little too long on Woojin's arm, gazing at Woojin for a heartbeat too long—that prompt Questions.

“Are you two…?”

And Jihoon smiles like he has a secret, looks at Woojin again with a fondness he has to tell himself isn’t real. “Yeah.”

Woojin’s aunt asks, “How did this happen? I never thought it would!”

“It just… did,” Woojin answers. He’s terrible at lying, so he has to rely on a bit of truth. “I think I was always in love with him, but it just took me a while to realize it. And then even longer to tell him.”

An old family friend asks, “How long have you been seeing each other?”

“Since the summer.” Woojin clears his throat. “We hadn’t been able to see each other in so long but finally had a chance to really catch up, and it was like we were in high school again. Everything fell into place because I realized that Jihoon is my everything, really.”

They ask about the promise ring (Jihoon says, “I wanted him to know how much I love him.”), about how serious they are (“I’m serious, at least,” Woojin says. “Not sure I can answer for him.” Jihoon bares his teeth but says, "As disgusting as it is, I'm serious, too. Ha!"). They ask if they’ll move in together after graduation (“We haven’t talked about it, but probably?” Jihoon looks at Woojin, eyes searching. “He spends most of his time at my place when he can, anyway. And then that’d assure we’d see each other more. Something to talk about later, I guess?”), if they think they’ll get married (Woojin just short circuits and Jihoon chuckles. “Sure, why not?”). Someone even thinks to ask how they’ll maintain their relationship once Jihoon’s acting career takes off (“We’ll take it day by day,” Woojin answers, squeezes Jihoon’s hand).

When someone asks if they’re in love, Jihoon gives him a light peck that sends Woojin’s stomach into knots. When they’re caught under a mistletoe by mistake and they’re asked to kiss, Jihoon gives him one that almost convinces Woojin himself that they’re in love. He locks eyes with Woojin, lets out the tiniest of laughs, then leans in to press their lips together tenderly, softly. It’s short, but it’s the way he moves into Woojin’s mouth at the end like he doesn’t want to pull away that gets him.

Woojin had been dreading all of it—how to tell people they were (fake) together, who to tell and who not to tell, the prying questions that follow the news. He appreciates the way that Jihoon handles it all like he’s done it before. He knows exactly how to act in front of everyone. Cool, calm, collected. Cute, charming, considerate. Woojin just appreciates him altogether.

He can only hope that he’s at least deceiving Jihoon with his answers because, even to his own ears, he sounds too genuine.

 

 

The party goes well into the night, but the wait staff is constantly cleaning up, so the place is clean and empty by two in the morning. There are enough relatives staying that Yerim and Woojin are kicked out of their rooms. Although now Woojin’s mom is apprehensive about letting him and Jihoon stay in the same room, she figures that Jihoon is safe since Yerim is in the living room, too. She gets one couch all to herself while Woojin and Jihoon sleep on opposite ends of the bigger couch, though it’s still a bit too small.

Yerim drifts off to sleep quickly, so Woojin kicks Jihoon’s legs.

“What?” Jihoon asks.

“I have something for you.” Woojin pulls out from his sweatshirt a mixtape he grabbed from his room during the party and wrapped with tissue paper he saved from opening gifts in the morning. He’d made it back in high school. Once Jihoon listens to it, there will be no turning back. He’ll have to make a decision

Jihoon sits up, opens his hands for the tape. “What for? I’m going to get that ring back from you once we leave. It was just for show. You don’t have to give me anything…”

“No, it’s not because of that. It’s just something from high school. Open it when you get home.” He sighs. “Thank you for agreeing to do all this. You really didn’t have to, especially since I couldn’t even really ask you myself. So yeah. Thanks.”

At first, Jihoon says nothing. Then he climbs over to Woojin’s side of the couch and settles in his arms. He puts the gift into his sweatshirt pocket. “I had fun. I missed this—you.”

“I missed you, too.” With Jihoon in his arms, there’s nothing more that Woojin wants to do than continue where they left off last night. Start with a kiss, one that would tell Jihoon just how much he missed him, then touch, kiss, lick every inch of his skin until he’s breathless with want and all he can do is plead for Woojin to do more.

“Let’s try harder next year,” Jihoon says. Absently, he brushes some hair out of Woojin’s face. “To see each other.”

He could say yes, but it’s not a promise he can keep right now. So he smiles and hopes Jihoon can’t read it.

 

 

Woojin’s alarm goes off right before dawn. Neither of them bother changing out of pajamas, but they use the downstairs bathroom to brush their teeth. They pack the leftovers Woojin's mom set aside for them for breakfast and then head out with their bags. The beach is a little out of the way, but they get there right on time to see the sunrise as they eat.

Jihoon watches the night sky brighten with purple first, then red and orange against the still sea water gently crashing against the sandy bank. Woojin, as always, watches Jihoon and the way the sunrise caresses his skin with gold, the way his eyes glisten with the sun and the sun’s newfound reflection in the water and the stars that are fighting against the brightening sky.

God, he’s so fucking beautiful.

Then Jihoon glances over at him and smiles. He leans over, wraps his arms around Woojin’s shoulders. Woojin has never been warmer.

This is a moment he will never forget.

 

 

Jihoon lives in a nicer neighborhood than Woojin does, but that’s because he has Daniel as a roommate and they split the rent. Woojin was just going to drop Jihoon off, but when Jihoon is reaching in to get his bag, he asks, “You’re not going to walk your boyfriend to the door?”

So Woojin gets out and heads inside the building with him. “Is Daniel hyung home?” he asks.

“No, he went to Sungwoon hyung's family's house for Christmas. He'll get back tomorrow morning.”

“You’ve got the whole place to yourself, then?”

“That sounds like a preposition.” Jihoon smirks. “Did you want to come in? I can make you lunch.”

“I’ve got food at home I should eat,” Woojin says, carefully. It’s not a lie, but it’s a thin line because he’s telling Jihoon no when all he wants to do is tell him yes. He makes sure not to let Jihoon catch his expression because surely it’d give everything away.

“Alright, suit yourself.” The elevator doors open, but when Jihoon goes to leave and Woojin doesn’t move, he pauses. “Are you going to stay in here?” he asks.

Woojin swallows. He doesn’t want to say goodbye. Why the fuck does this have to be so hard? “You’re inside, yeah? And your door is just a few steps away. I don’t want to have to wait for the elevator again. So…”

“Alright,” Jihoon says again. He stops in front of Woojin, reaches for his hand. “The ring, I guess.” He slips it off, pockets it, then he fists Woojin’s shirt at his sides and looks up at him. “I wasn’t a great fake escort, but I hope I was a good enough fake boyfriend. Good luck telling her we broke up, I guess?”

All he can say is, “Thanks.”

Jihoon gives him a hug and Woojin doesn’t return it because he knows the moment he wraps his arms around Jihoon is the moment he won’t let go. And he’s preparing himself. If Jihoon listens to the mixtape immediately, then by the time Woojin gets home, Jihoon will be calling him. Well—that’s only if he likes what he hears. If he doesn’t like what he hears, then Woojin won’t hear back. Or if Jihoon forgets to listen to it altogether, he won’t call either.

The elevator doors close and Woojin is alone.

“Fuck.”

Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to just give him the CD and wait. Maybe he should’ve told Jihoon how he feels. Maybe he should’ve let Jihoon drag him into his place and confessed inside. Maybe he should’ve hugged Jihoon back and told him how much he loves him.

But he didn’t do any of those things.

He rides the elevator back down to the parking level, gets into his car, drives home to his apartment. He drops off his stuff in his room and then calls Daehwi because if there’s one person he can blame for all of this, it’s him.

“Woojin hyung,” Daehwi answers. “You’re back? How’d it go?”

“I hate you,” Woojin says, and he means it. “I know what you did. I know you did all of this so that I’d realize how hopelessly in love with Jihoon I am. But guess what? Now I know and nothing has changed. It would be better if I still didn't know because then at least maybe I’d have a chance of moving on. I hate you.”

Daehwi is quiet for a few moments, then he asks, “You didn’t tell him how you feel?”

“I gave him one of the millions of mixtapes I made for him when we were in high school as a Christmas present. I told him to open it when he got home. If he didn’t forget about it, then he’s listening to it now. No—he’s probably done listening to it. And he should know exactly how I felt then and still feel now.”

“So he could call you? At any moment?”

“But he won’t.”

“Why not?” Daehwi asks.

“Because there’s no fucking way he feels the same. Are you happy now? Thanks for nothing.” Woojin hangs up. He throws his phone onto his couch, then goes to his room and flops onto his bed.

This was not how he imagined this would end, but it’s the ending that makes sense. He falls asleep to the silence of his apartment, to the ache in his chest.

 

 

He doesn’t know how long he slept, but he’s awoken by someone banging on his door. He figures it’s Daehwi, who’s either come to bitch about how Woojin hung up on him or attempt to console him. He’s hoping it’s neither because he hates it when Daehwi’s mad at him—and shouldn’t _he_ be mad at Daehwi?—and he does not want pity.

He opens the door to find Jihoon.

“You weren’t answering your fucking phone,” he says. “I thought maybe you died.”

His dry tone implies he’s being sarcastic, but Woojin can’t help but respond. “No, just didn’t want to deal with Daehwi. Why’re you—”

“I listened to your stupid mixtape.”

Woojin can’t breathe.

“I need to hear _you_ say it, not sixteen-year-old-you but the you right now who’s standing in front of me, who didn’t even hug me goodbye earlier, who didn’t want to even come into my house _for food_ , who’s my best friend still no matter what. Say it, Park Woojin.”

“I love you.”

“Fucking hell. I love you, too.” He walks into Woojin’s open arms and buries himself in his embrace.

Then Woojin cups his jaw, leans down just enough to close the distance between their lips, and kisses him the way he’s always wanted to, holds him the way he’s always wanted to, worships every centimeter of his body the way he’s always wanted to.

Jihoon might be dangerous, but Woojin has always loved danger.

 

 

 

∞

**Author's Note:**

> "an escort fic," said the prompt.  
> "a FAKE escort fic," said me as i outlined. "with some fake dating. because i haven't already written a fake dating au for 2park secret santa nope."
> 
> that said, this was an enjoyable romp that ended up a little more angsty than i thought it would ?? whipped!woojin is just so good at pining i can't help it. 
> 
> aaaaand feel free to follow me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/slackeuse) or bug me on [cc](http://curiouscat.me/slackeuse)!


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